Blue smoke drifted lazily from the muzzle of the gun.
The man controlling the poisonous gas struck what he thought was a stylish firing pose. Unfortunately, with a gas mask covering his entire face, he couldn't blow on the barrel like a Western gunslinger.
"Well? U.A.'s top student," he sneered. "You're supposed to become a Hero someday, right? That's hilarious to me."
"Idiots like you—single-celled thinkers who can't even distinguish enemies from allies—can only charge forward blindly. A society that worships people just because they're well-educated is fundamentally flawed!"
"What a shame you died so easily. Didn't you attend an elite school? Aren't you supposed to be smart? Then why didn't you use your brain?"
"They even told me you were a major threat. Shigaraki treats you seriously, and Dabi warned us to be careful. Honestly, it's laughable!"
"But if society learns that I killed the rising star of tomorrow," he continued excitedly, "my reputation will skyrocket! That's the only value you have left!"
Lost in his own fantasy, the man failed to notice the strange smile forming on Igarashi Masata's face.
How could Masata possibly be hit by such an attack?
Magma—far more viscous and resilient than water—had already solidified at the moment of impact. The bullet, which the gas user believed to be an unstoppable weapon, failed to penetrate Masata's body at all.
He's been talking to himself this entire time, Masata thought flatly.
Is this guy an idiot? Same energy as Kaminari. No—Kaminari's still smarter than this.
Unwilling to inhale the toxic gas or waste stamina, Masata fully elementalized. Holding his breath, he strode forward calmly. Before the man could even process what was happening, a blunt, brutal punch smashed into his head.
Boom!
The gas mask shattered instantly. The force of the blow didn't stop there—it crushed the man's face and slammed his body into the ground.
Despite possessing a dangerous Quirk, his physical conditioning was abysmal. His eyes rolled back, and he lost consciousness without any resistance.
"So you were just a kid," Masata muttered, wiping blood from his knuckles. "No wonder you talked so much."
As the man collapsed, the poisonous gas dispersed rapidly into the air. Looking at the young, unconscious face, Masata felt only disdain. Is this the so-called 'mental victory' technique?
"But he mentioned Shigaraki," Masata murmured. "So this really was the League of Villains. And someone named Dabi… likely the leader of this operation."
A classic pig teammate.
Not only had he failed his mission, he'd also leaked critical information—information that now gave Masata a clear direction for future action.
"First things first—back to the dorms," Masata decided. "By now, they should be regrouping."
He was still uneasy. The gas user had clearly stated he wasn't acting alone.
As Masata moved through the forest, Mr. Aizawa had just returned to the classroom with the five students assigned to remedial lessons.
"This is completely unscientific!" Monoma Neito exclaimed from his seat, grinning maliciously as Kirishima opened the door. "Five failures in Class A? Five!"
"And Class B only has one failure? Truly tragic!"
Dark lines formed on all five students' faces.
The "one failure" he was bragging about… was himself.
After a brief discussion, Mr. Vlad King and Mr. Aizawa decided to include additional practical combat training. Since all six present had failed the assessment, this segment was non-negotiable.
Suddenly, a voice echoed directly inside everyone's minds:
"Attention! Two villains have been confirmed attacking the area! There may be more!
If you are able to move, return to camp immediately!
Avoid direct combat—retreat as your top priority!"
It was Mandalay's Telepathy.
Masata liked this sensation—clear and instant communication—but being unable to respond always bothered him slightly.
At that moment, Masata had already neutralized the gas user. Hearing Mandalay's warning as he rushed back only heightened his unease. He'd known there were multiple villains, but the uncertainty gnawed at him.
I'm not even supposed to be here, he thought irritably. Did I technically break the rules just now? Whatever. If they're all at that level, it's nothing.
He accelerated toward the lights of the camp.
The moment Mr. Aizawa heard about the enemy attack, his expression darkened completely.
"Vlad, the students here are yours," he said sharply. "I'm going outside."
He burst from the classroom.
What greeted him was the sight of blue flames raging through the forest.
"This is bad…" Aizawa muttered. "You promised this location wouldn't be discovered."
With only two teachers present, protecting all the students was impossible. His irritation and concern peaked.
"Already worrying about students, Eraser?"
A mocking voice sounded behind him.
A man covered in burn scars stepped forward—Dabi.
Raising one hand, he aimed a palm of blazing blue fire at Aizawa's back, grinning widely.
"Relax, Pro Hero. You're not our target today."
"Cremation!"
A monstrous wave of blue flame surged forward. Its scale and temperature dwarfed Bakugo's explosions—Dabi's strength was unmistakably lethal.
But after only a few seconds, the flames vanished unnaturally.
Dabi stared at his palm in confusion. Only faint black smoke remained.
"So that's how it is," he muttered. "A Pro Hero, after all."
Above him, Aizawa stood calmly on the second-floor railing, hair raised, eyes bloodshot.
At the critical moment, Aizawa had used his capture weapon to anchor himself, narrowly evading the attack.
Dabi swung his arm again—but no flames appeared. Only displaced air.
"It's useless," Aizawa said coldly.
This was the true terror of his Quirk.
Forcing villains into a fight that relied only on their bodies, then crushing them with refined combat skill.
...
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